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When I was about 3 I had a good gaggle of friends behind me: Jonathan Stone, Adrian Tearle and Craig Nelson. Between us, we could jump off things, go down slides and scoff Party Rings like no other - we were kind of like the pre-school edition of The Rat Pack. However, whilst my mates were certainly a slick bunch (Jonathan even had a Mr Freeze), they weren't exactly endowed with magical powers. And this was always a problem when we wanted to bring snowmen to life (Mr Freeze aside who was a cool character in his own right).

It was particularly frustrating as I knew it was possible for a young boy to have friends with amazing abilities which confounded the norm. After all, I'd seen it on television and, back then, if there was one thing that I was sure of it was that EVERYTHING on television was real and possible. And one little guy who seemed hellbent on stretching the boundaries of reality was The Little Green Man.

Sitting in a comfy armchair one evening, Sydney Keats (Skeets to his mates) is whiling away the hours with an engrossing read when his concentration is suddenly disrupted by an unusual commotion outside his window. Poking his head out the window with all the vigor of the very best nosy neighbour, Skeets' world is flipped turned upside down when he sees a hyper-illuminated space ship flying all over the local neighbourhood before landing in his garden.

Not the least bit petrified of the potential that he could be vaporised in an instant or have his brains pickled for an analysis beyond the Milky Way, Skeets rushes outside to see what this intergalactic invader wants - don't worry, it's nothing like that awful episode of Beadle's About where Jeremy Beadle lands in a garden in Chipping Sodbury for a cup of tea. Anyway, who, if not Jeremy Beadle, is in this spaceship? Well, if it isn't The Little Green Man (his moniker perfectly describes him) and Zoom Zoom who is a, uh, little fluffy ball of yellow energy?

Greenie (as Skeets calls him) has come from the planet Zombazan, described as "a great way off", and the reason he's landed in Skeets' back garden is because he's on a mission to learn about Earth children and their myriad peculiarities - maybe it's part of a grand plan to enslave the earth, but Greenie never elaborates on this. To preserve Greenie's anonymity and no doubt keep him out of the US government's clutches, Skeets is the only human blessed with the ability to see Greenie.

Together, Skeets, Greenie and Zoom Zoom will go on a series of amazing adventures which take full advantage of Greenie's magical powers as they bring snowmen to life, go through the looking glass, help out a Duke, take a trip to the circus and even build a sandcastle. Hopefully, Greenie will learn everything he needs to know and Skeets will emerge with brains still safe ensconced in his skull. And that always makes for a nice afternoon.

Bringing The Little Green Man to Earth

The Little Green Man aired as a 13 episode solitary series and was first shown in 1985 in the Thursday 12pm slot on ITV, once the series had finished it was replaced by Fox Tales. Repeats of The Little Green Man followed in 1986 and 1988 with episodes airing in both the lunchtime slot and the Children's ITV afternoon strand of programming.

The series - produced by Central Television - was created and written by Matthew Smith who is perhaps best known as being one of the foremost authority figures on the JFK assassination and has written several books on the subject. Back in the early 80s, Matthew Smith was working as a lecturer when he came up with the idea of The Little Green Man as he told website Jedi's Paradise:

"While attending boring meetings at the college at which I lectured, my pad was invariably covered in doodles of a character I became rather fond of. I was struck by the interest of the office staff who gathered up the waste paper afterwards, and the doodle became the Little Green Man.I wanted to write stories about a character from outer space. I had young children in mind as my audience and my objective was to create stories which were totally wholesome, which carried some kind of message which would help children, and if possible keep the interest of grown ups who watched with the children.

Nothing was simpler than to call my little character The Little Green Man (from space), and there was always some kind of learning experience as he came to learn from and with small boy, Sydney Keats. Adding The Little Green Man's pet, Zoom Zoom was just a bit of fun. Add to the mix the invisibility of The Little Green Man to everyone but Sydney Keats, and magic, and you have, invariably, the winning formula for a children's story"

Jon Pertwee - who provided all the narration and voices - had previously worked on an animated pilot called The Adventures of Sir Ned the Knight which was also written by Matthew Smith, so this initial relationship helped smooth Pertwee's path into the show. Smith told Jedi's Paradise that he has fond memories of producing Pertwee's voice work for The Little Green Man and then heading out to a Soho restaurant with him for lunch - boozing with a classic Who, could it get any better?

Despite The Little Green Man managing to achieve 7.5 million viewers at one point, there was no second series despite Central pushing for more. Due to the machinations of television production, Smith was having to stump up money of his own to pay for the production and it was not a viable move. Smith eventually sold the rights for The Little Green Man to a Swiss buyer and he now only owns the music rights.

Before the rights had been sold, a small amount of merchandise was produced and this included books, annuals, pyjamas and even a Greenie lolly - if anyone has an ancient Greenie lolly stored in their freezer then please get in touch!

Is There Life on Zombazan?

The Little Green Man was one of those shows which aired during that wonderful era when I was starting to develop lifelong memories andwas blessed with a seemingly never ending stream of fantastic lunchtime children's TV shows to watch. And The Little Green Man was one of my favourites, I even had a book called 'The Little Green Man Goes Skiing' and this really helped to solidify the memories circling round my brain.

So, why has it taken so long for me to write about it? Well, the main problem was the lack of available footage.

All I could find were a few tiny, tiny clips on YouTube and nothing else - I found a couple of snippets on old VHS tapes too, but this was of very little use in carrying out the type of extensive critique I thrive upon - I'm not known as the Brian Sewell of retro television for nothing. Oh, sure, I could have watched some at the BFI, but I kept booking up to watch other odds and sods and there was the tantalising prospect of getting hold of the official VHS of The Little Green Man - always preferable to the BFI as I can actually keep the footage to review.

However, The Little Green Man VHS is a difficult tape to track down. The only copy I could find for sale was priced at around £25 and this was far too much, it was merely exploiting the age old supply and demand factor rather than any intrinsic value. Anyway, eventually, someone ripped a copy of this tape to YouTube, so I was finally able to rewatch several episodes and wax lyrical like the low rent Brian Sewell I am.

I'm a huge Doctor Who fan, of course, and I also used to loveWurzel Gummidge, so it kind of felt that Jon Pertwee - along with Brian Cant - was always pottering away in the background of my childhood in some form. And Pertwee had a voice which was just perfect for bring animations to life (see also SuperTed), so he certainly doesn't disappoint in The Little Green Man. With his wonderfully eccentric voice packed full of both burbling lilts and a determined confidence, he immediately brings an individuality to all the characters.

Pertwee's vocal magnificence is complemented by Matthew Smith's melodic soundtrack which, whilst simple, sums up the gentle brilliance of the series with it's jaunty, jangling stabs of keyboard and synths. The theme tune, kickstarted by a jaunty and infectious burst of whistling soon segues into a chorus of children singing (pupils from the Trinity Comprehensive School, Nottingham) over what sounds suspiciously like an old time fairground organ tune. And it's quite, quite brilliant, still rattling around my head for several days after hearing it.

Soundwise, The Little Green Man is a fantastic affair, but what about the animation? Well, it's a curious affair with the fairly simplistic main characters placed against backgrounds which, at times, are remarkably detailed and, with their watercolour flourishes, look highly professional. Smith remembers having to use a variety of animators which he believes left the animation lacking a certain identity, but the only complaint I have is that the proportions of the characters and their surroundings are sometimes at odds - early episodes of The Simpsons suffer this as well though, so it's not exactly a death knell for a series.

It's time to get to the nub of The Little Green Man, though, as it is after all a series of stories, so what are these stories like? What really endears the series to me is its slightly surreal edge, Greenie's magic powers open up a whole world of imagination to help bring the fantastical to life. In particular, the episode which finds the gang venturing through the looking glass and into a world of blue faced policeman and anthropomorphic cats is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to liven up lunchtimes and, to tell you the truth, as an adult it's equally thrilling to have your mind let off its leash.

And, as with all good children's TV, there's a healthy dose of morality infused within the narrative pursuits. Skeets, Greenie and Zoom Zoom seem to be falling over themselves to help rescue families on the precipice of drowning and, as for helping dukes raise funds to keep their castles maintained and running, they're absolutely cock a hoop to get stuck into that. It's a wholesome approach to teaching children the importance of altruism and its delivered effectively thanks to the dreamy sense of wonder informing the team's exploits.

A one series wonder then, but a series which had the potential for many more gentle, yet amazing adventures. Due to the lack of clarity over the series' rights, it's unlikely that a commercial release will ever follow and the chance of a reboot is even more unlikely. However, there are 13 episodes of brilliant adventures out there which are a fine addition to the vast riches of 1980s children's TV, so let's try and uncover a few more of these episodes. And then maybe Greenie, Skeets and Zoom Zoom will be able to claim a little more of the recognition they deserve.

Only Fools and Horses was awarded the title of Britain's Best Loved Sitcom in 2015 and it was also voted Britain's Favourite Sitcom in 2004; it's no surprise, really, as it's packed full of likeable characters and plenty of gags which satisfy almost every demographic. It makes you wonder why there aren't more sitcoms which can engender the feeling of love that OFAH does, but I guess love and genius are rare commodities.

This passion for Del Boy, Rodney et al means that every household in the land either has the complete OFAH boxset or has access to GOLD (essentially the OFAH boxset disguised as a digital channel). As a result, people all over the country can recite huge chunks of dialogue and argue almost non-stop about which is the greatest episode. However, not everyone is aware of the unusual, mostly unseen and long forgotten snippets of OFAH which are lurking online with a whole 'new' set of laughs.

And this is why I've decided to gather together 9 pukka slices of rare Only Fools and Horses footage in one place. Some of them may appear to have been swept up by Trigger round the back of the Nag's Head, so the quality is variable, but as Del Boy would say "C'est la vie, mange tout!"

1. Del Boy and Boycie Rover Car Advert

This rarely seen advert is essentially a quickie reveal gag, but it also features classic Del Boy patter such as "This is quality with a capital K", a Boycie guffaw of the finest vintage and there's still time to pack in a quick laugh at Del Boy's beloved Reliant Regal.

2. Abbey National Adverts

Although the character played by David Jason in these adverts is never referred to as Del Boy, you only have to take one look at his attire (particularly the awful sportswear in the hotel advert) to know that this is Del Boy and that's before he's opened his north and south with one liners like "The Light Brigade made less ridiculous charges!"

3. Christmas 1988 Only Fools and Horses Promo

This specially filmed promo finds Del Boy and Rodney reading the Christmas edition of the Radio Times and discussing a show featuring a "plonker" and a character with good "business sense" before Uncle Albert's bearded face emerges from the three wheeler and the rug is yanked from underneath out feet with a classic misdirection gag.

4. Christmas Trees

This 1982 mini episode featuring Del Boy, Rodney, Grandad and Sid aired as part of The Funny Side of Christmas which was presented by Frank Muir. Written by John Sullivan himself, Christmas Trees is quintessential OFAH and, as such, has an underhand Del Boy scheme at it's very heart and perhaps one of the best ever Del Boy lines of "Ethics? They make model aeroplanes, don't they?"

5. White Mice

Christmas Eve, 1985 found Del Boy appearing in a quick sketch on BBC1's Breakfast Time. Having sold a batch of white mice which would - according to Del Boy - turn into horses, Del is now being investigated by a BBC consumer expert who isn't buying into Del's excuse that the mice haven't transformed yet as they're still set to Korean time.

6. 1983 Harty Christmas Special

The early 1980s found Russell Harty hosting his own show called, not surprisingly, Harty and the 21st December 1983 Christmas special was transmitted from the former Railway Orphanage in Woking. In amongst the guests were Del Boy, Rodney and Grandad who, at Del's command, were planning to gatecrash Russell Harty's Christmas party to get a free Christmas dinner. Rather disturbingly, Del refers to Rodney as Jimmy Savile's lovechild in one gag...

7. The Robin Flies at Dawn

This five minute sketch was specially filmed as a message of goodwill to the British troops serving in the Gulf War. Featuring Del Boy's three wheeler van decked out with a machine gun (perfect for a rough night in Peckham or Baghdad)as Del, Rodney and Uncle Albert failed to protect the location of their top secret filming location. Oh and Rodney promises to look after the troops' wives and girlfriends - whatever would Cassandra say?

8. 1985 Radio Times Promo

A BBC promo for the Christmas edition of the Radio Times, this clip finds Del, Rodney and Uncle "Santa" Albert sat in the flat and taking a look at the BBC's Christmas schedule. Name checking Roland Rat, Tenko and Stanley Baxter, it's a real dose of nostalgia and there are plenty of gags crammed in. A true stocking filler.

9. Licensed to Drill

Written by John Sullivan, this educational episode - produced by the Maureen Oilfield Consortium in 1984 - of OFAH never aired commercially and was only shown in schools and colleges. With a strong emphasis on the oil industry, this 20 minute episode (without a laughter track) finds Del Boy being conned into buying an 'oil rig' for £400 off a mysterious character called Paddy. This episode proved to be the final appearance of Grandad as Lennard Pearce died shortly afterwards.

So, how many of these can you remember? Oh, and if anyone has a complete copy of the OFAH sketch from the 1986 Royal Variety Performance then let me know and I'll stick it up here too!

Society simply wouldn't operate without a little bit of community spirit running through our veins. It's this sense of commitment to our fellow man which ensures we have peace of mind, security and, most importantly, a feeling of togetherness. Sure, there are always hermits and loners in amongst this throng of connected individuals, but at least community provides them with something to rebel against, so everyone's a winner.

And it was in 1982 - for the UK - that an upgrade to community spirit was delivered with the establishment of neighbourhood watch schemes. Based on similar practices well established in the USA, these schemes looked to foster a communal spirit by inspiring people to come together to keep a watchful eye on their communities and make them a safer place to live.

The scheme has been a tremendous success and it's now estimated that 3.8 million households fall under the jurisdiction of a neighbourhood watch, so this is a level of security which can't be ignored. However, with no specific rules or central, governing bodies in place, a neighbourhood watch can soon become somewhat of a wild beast and start to cause more trouble than it solves as evidenced in Wyatt's Watchdogs.

Genre: ComedyChannel: BBC1Transmission: 17/10/1988 - 21/11/1988

Major John Wyatt (Brian Wilde) is a retired army officer living in the quintessentiallyEnglish village of Bradly Bush. However, even this quiet, leafy village has the capacity to be struck down the rigours of crime and this is suddenly brought home to Wyatt when his sister Edwina (Anne Ridler) has her house burgled. Determined to create a safer environment for his fellow villagers to live in, Wyatt - with the approval and careful eye of the local police - forms a neighbourhood watch scheme for Bradly Bush.

Wyatt, of course, is somewhat of a pompous twit, though, so his resolute bloody-mindedness seriously hamstrings the activities of his watch. He's not on his own, though, so joining him in the Dogmobile (Wyatt's Range Rover) is the suave security alarm salesman Peter Pitt (Trevor Bannister) and proper English village lady Virginia (April Walker) who swoons whenever confronted by a set of previously unconquered X and Y chromosomes.

Keeping a careful eye on Wyatt's questionable and calamitous activities is the local police sergeant Springer (James Warrior) who seems determined to discourage Wyatt from going one step too far and, of course, ridiculing his various downfalls. And what type of village would this be without a religious figurehead? Step forward the Vicar (David Jackson) who's keen to interfere and save a few quid by getting new age travellers to repair his leaky plumbing.

Together, this assortment of fantastically British characters take on plots which see them hot on the trail of a terrorsome gnome thief, filming a crime prevention video and even getting providing an anti-theft identity engraving service. And, as decreed by Eric Sykes in the 1947 Sitcom Regulations Act, all of these endeavours end up going down the swanny for the audience's viewing pleasure.

Watching the Production

Wyatt's Watchdogsaired during autumn 1988 on BBC1 at 8pm on Monday evenings and ran for one series of six episodes. Despite the somewhat cosy trappings of an English village, a comedy vicar and all manner of whimsy, you may be surprised to learn that Wyatt's Watchdogs was written by Miles Tredinnick who was the lead singer of classic 70s punk band London (where he performed under the name Riff Regan).

Looking back at his initial ideas for the series, Tredinnick remembers focusing on the glory days of classic British comedy:

"I was trying to create a contemporary Dad's Army type show where a whole load of people are thrown together in an unlikely group to combat local crime. Neighbourhood Watches were very current at the time and I thought that if you put some pompous twit in charge it might have some comedic legs and be funny. I was also trying to create a gentle comedy rather in the fashion of the old Ealing comedies. I wanted oddball characters like they had in Passport to Pimlico or Whisky Galore!"

With a firm concept in mind, Tredinnick's next step was to secure a commission and, although he did, it was after an unusual series of events:"I badgered my agent Tessa Le Bars to send the BBC comedy department a stage play that I had written called Laugh? I Nearly Went To Miami! which had just been published by Samuel French Ltd as I thought it might show the BBC the kind of dialogue I wrote. A sort of comedy calling card if you like.

Everyone thought I was mad sending the BBC a stage play but they must have liked it because the next thing I know I’m in a meeting with Christopher Bond at TV Centre and he said they wanted to commission me to write a pilot script on any subject I wanted. They asked me to go away and come back with three ideas and they would choose the best one. Talk about having all your Christmases come at once!

Well I went away and wrote Bovver which was about a skinhead who still lived at home with his mum – it was very much inspired by John Sullivan’s Citizen Smith – the idea being that the skinhead couldn’t be as tough as he would like with his fellow gang members whilst his mum was always popping in with cups of tea and tidying his room! Smooth Operators which was about three switchboard girls in a legal firm who spent more time discussing their boyfriends then answering calls and my third one was Wyatt's Watchdogs.

That was the one they liked and it eventually got the green light for a pilot episode by Gareth Gwenlan, the Head of Comedy and Michael Grade who was then the Controller of BBC1. But the first I heard that they were going to make a pilot episode was one morning when I got a phone call from Alan Bell who wanted to discuss casting. He assumed that I already knew it had got the go ahead. It was one of the most exciting moments of my life. I kept repeating 'So you’re going to make my sitcom?' again and again. I just couldn’t believe it was happening. Typical BBC"

Both Brian Wilde and Trevor Bannister were well established sitcom stars, so securing the pair of them was a real coup for Wyatt's Watchdogs and led to Tredinnick having to make adjustments to accomodate both their talents and standing:

"Brian Wilde was Gareth Gwenlan’s suggestion. I had originally seen the John Wyatt role as ideal for Reginald Marsh who I admired from shows like George and Mildred, The Good Life and Terry and June. But as soon as Gareth suggested Brian I was in. I had always been a huge fan of Brian Wilde in Porridge (my favourite sitcom ever) and was delighted at the prospect of writing for him. His timing and delivery was always superb in my opinion. Trevor was different. We were casting the pilot episode 'One Big, One Not So Big' and Alan Bell suggested Trevor Bannister for Peter Pitt? Well, I'd always loved Trevor in Are You Being Served? so we got him in for a reading with Brian Wilde. It was immediately clear that there was some kind of chemistry going on between them. It worked very well as they had both known each other from an earlier ITV sitcom The Dustbinmen that they’d both been in. Obviously I had to build up Trevor’s part considerably as originally the show was only supposed to be a star vehicle for Brian"

Tredinnick's original vision for the series also had to be changed slightly as the series entered pre-production:

"The first script was quite different to what it eventually became. I had originally set the show in London’s East End with Wyatt looking down through his binoculars from the 17th floor of a high rise tower block trying to spot local wrong-doers. I think it was Brian Wilde who asked if it could be moved to more leafy surroundings and so I changed it to accommodate him.

In the end, the series was filmed in Claygate, Surrey although my fictional name for the village was ‘Bradly Bush’. It was very convenient for all the crew (most of whom lived in London) and especially for Trevor Bannister and Alan Bell as they lived only 20 minutes away in Thames Ditton"

And even the series title went through a number of changes thanks to the bureaucracy of television scheduling and marketing as Tredinnick remembers:

"The original title was Wyatt's Watchdogs. That was the title under which the show got commissioned but then as the filming dates approached, Alan Bell said he wasn’t too keen on the title as it sounded a bit like a children’s programme. So I suggested Every Street Should Have One and everyone seemed happy with that.But then after the filming but before we got into the weekly studio recordings, word came through from the BBC bosses that the show was going to be aired in the autumn at 8pm on Mondays on BBC1. It was going to follow Coronation Street on ITV and be transmitted before another new BBC comedy called Streets Apart.

Well all these ‘streets’ would have looked a bit silly in the schedules so Gareth Gwenlan asked me to come up with a new title. Now, you may think picking a title is a straight forward thing but actually it’s quite difficult. After a few days I gave Gareth a list of alternatives but he didn’t like any of them so in the end and with the transmission date looming closer and closer it was decided to go back to the original title Wyatt's Watchdogs"

The series was restricted to just one airing and there neither repeats or any commercial releases, but off-air recordings (not HD quality, but watchable enough) are circulating on torrent sites or rather overpriced (considering the quality) bootleg DVDs are for sale on various online marketplaces.

Every Street Should Have One

Wyatt's Watchdogs was a sitcom which had been recommended to me by several people and, given the fact that it had only aired once nearly 30 years ago, meant that there must have been something special lurking in its inner workings to engender such long lasting affection. Personally, I can't remember watching it at the time, so I had no personal recollections of it. I had, at the time it aired, been watching Last of the Summer Wine for a few years, but I'm pretty certain I started when Brian Wilde had taken a sabbatical and was replaced by Michael Aldridge as Seymour.

So, yes, Wyatt's Watchdogs had passed me by like a day of sobriety for an alcoholic. However, much like an alcoholic frantically searching the house for that last bottle of low cost, high strength cider, I was determined to find Wyatt's Watchdogs. And, for a year or two, I drew nothing but blanks until I was lucky enough to uncover a recording of the series by some innovative soul. By now, of course, I was well aware of Brian Wilde's ability as an actor having continued watching Summer Wine and witnessing his reappearance in 1990.

What was even more intriguing about Wyatt's Watchdogs was that long term Summer Wine director Alan J.W. Bell was on board as well as Ronnie Hazlehurst who composed the theme tune and incidental music for Summer Wine. With all theses Summer Wine references and foundations, I began to wonder whether it would simply be a rehash of that series, but with a dose of crime fighting for good measure. However, Wyatt's Watchdogs proved to be a very different beast.

Sure, Brian Wilde playing a pompous ex-military type isn't far removed from the character of Foggy Dewhurst, but Major Wyatt is much more grounded in reality. You see, at least for the last two thirds of its run, Summer Wine was set in what was very much a cartoony, utopian idyll, seemingly untouched by the modern world or any of the harsh realities of life (Compo's death aside). And, for Summer Wine, this was the perfect flavour for a show whose exaggerated characters were there sought to celebrate the constituent parts of the British personality.

In Wyatt's Watchdogs, though, Brian Wilde is playing a character who has genuine, real life problems on his hands in the form of crime. Okay, he also has to worry about keeping an eye on his precious drinks cabinet, but it's refreshing to see him in a role which allows him a more dramatic narrative even if it is just hunting down a gnome thief or trying to secure victory in a 'best kept village' competition. Ticking off every aspect required to elevate his pompousness to a particularly high pedestal, Wyatt is perfectly poised to suffer fall from grace after fall from grace.

And, in sharp contrast to Wyatt, we have Peter Pitt played with complete relish by Trevor Bannister. The complete opposite of Wyatt, Pitt is diametrically opposed to Wyatt's outlook on life and, to Wyatt at least (but virtually no one else in Bradly Bush), Pitt is little more than a charlatan intent on flogging burglar alarms. In reality, Pitt is a jovial, charming soul and his free enterprise activities are merely a symptom of his personality rather than any duplicitous scheme to make a few sales.

Wyatt and Pitt make for a fine double act and are one of the series redeeming and best executed features, being as it is, a pre-requisite (as laid down by Eric Sykes in 1947) that conflict is the epicentre from which all belly laughs emanate. And Tredinnick reveals that he revelled in writing these scenes:

"I always think that one of the best bits about the show is the constant bickering between Brian and Trevor. I love that kind of writing – two people trying to outdo each other and neither willing to back down - and found those scenes exciting to write"

Although the main thrust of the narrative concentrates on Wyatt and Pitt's activities, the supporting characters around them all provide little flurries of excitement. Springer provides Wyatt with another battleground, but this time Wyatt's adversary comes with some real authority behind him, as well as a desire to see Wyatt land flat on his face. And perhaps my favourite character is the prone-to-a-gamble Vicar with David Jackson delivering a sparkling performance as the engaging holy man.

And it was the fantastic cast in place which really made Wyatt's Watchdogs for Tredinnick:

"The regulars April Walker, Anne Ridler, David Jackson, and James Warrior were all very funny and a joy to work with. As were the supporting actors. Eva Stuart, Brian Wilde’s wife, appeared in one episode as a snooty antique shop owner, (I think it’s the only film of the two of them acting together). Clive Mantle played a hilarious stoned hippy traveller called Baza; Martin Benson (who I had only known from films like Goldfinger and one of the Pink Panther movies) played a Judge and Timothy Carlton (Benedict Cumberbatch’s father) had a role as the antiques expert Toby Todd"

Tredinnick's scripts for this fine cast are particularly pleasing with plenty of action to provide the narrative with a sense of pace which never leaves you staring out the window and pondering life. And there are plenty of gags peppered throughout as well as the comedy arising from Wyatt's misplaced sense of purpose and importance. It's all very innocent and certainly indebted - as Tredinnick intended - to shows such as Dad's Army and similar family favourites.

The tightness of the scripts is also complemented by Alan Bell's direction, but, given his experience, this shouldn't really come as any surprise and Tredinnick was highly appreciative of the magic Bell brought to the production:

"We got on brilliantly from day one. Alan is an incredible film director (just look at some of the LAS episodes, beautifully photographed and with great composition) but he also instinctively knows what’s funny. He has a great sense of humour and always created a very happy atmosphere on set.

For me, a complete novice in television, he was patient and very helpful. He allowed me to sit in on everything – the casting, the rehearsals, the filming, the music recording with Ronnie Hazlehurst, the editing, the lot! I learned so much from him in every aspect of how to put a TV show together. I am very grateful to him"

Wyatt's Watchdogs is certainly packed full of charm and merit, but unfortunately that all important second series didn't manifest itself with a commission as Tredinnick recollects:"A second series was pencilled in and I had already started writing the first episode which involved Wyatt and his neighbourhood watch team taking to the river in a rubber dinghy trying to catch waterborne crooks! I remember having a meeting with Trevor Bannister and coming up with all kinds of possible shenanigans/bungles for a new series.

We discussed some great ideas. It was quite surreal in a way because in real life Trevor was in charge of his own neighbourhood watch in Thames Ditton. Talk about art imitating life!Unfortunately when the show aired it was up against the popular Benny Hill Show on ITV and just couldn’t win the ratings war. Despite the fact that 8 million viewers tuned in if you didn’t attract 10 million plus back then your show would be cancelled. We were all very upset. It had been a happy series to work on"

Worth a Watch?

Taking its lead from the spirit of neighbourhood watches, there's a pleasing level of community at the forefront of Wyatt's Watchdogs from both the cast's performance and the level of expertise behind the camera. It may feel, at times, quaint and old fashioned, but perhaps it aired in an era where times were simpler and the TV audience wasn't fractured into so many specific niches.

Tredinnick certainly notices a marked difference in today's sitcom landscape compared to that of yesteryear:"There aren’t many sitcoms made in the traditional way anymore are there? These days they seem to be more light-hearted dramas whilst the best sitcoms had a funny line almost every third line. The show I wrote an episode for after Wyatt's Watchdogs was Marks and Gran’s Birds of a Feather and there they practically insisted on so many laugh-out-loud lines per episode.

The old sitcoms were designed to make you laugh. The best ones were written by skilled comedy writers and performed by actors who just knew how to deliver lines. Take Trevor Bannister’s previous show Are You Being Served? Whether you liked it or not everyone in it knew how to say their lines with impeccable timing probably learnt from years in the theatre and being in farces etc"

Wyatt's Watchdogs is a fine example of a traditional sitcom and one which refuses to vacate the affections of those who watched it almost three decades ago. For Tredinnick it's a series packed full of memories which he believes are worthy of a reappraisal:

"Wyatt's Watchdogs wasn’t as successful as the BBC had hoped but it was two years of my life that I look back on with immense pleasure. I know a lot of people enjoyed watching it and even today people ask me if there is ever going to be a DVD release? Maybe one day that might happen. Who knows? With sitcom heavyweights Brian Wilde and Trevor Bannister bickering and snapping at each other like only they could, it would probably sell quite well"

And you know what? I couldn't agree more, so come on, BBC, lets get a broadcast quality copy out on DVD. With commentaries and blooper reels. And even a Wyatt's Watchdog 'Neighbourhood Watch' sticker to display in your window to deter would be criminals.

Every now and then, an actor or actress strides onto a television show and, backed by quite magnificent writing, manages to not only define the series, but often a genre. And this is never more evident than with Pat Phoenix who played - as we all know - Elsie Tanner way back in the very first episode of Coronation Street.

The original soap siren, Elsie Tanner was fiery, passionateand it was the combination of these two traits which led to achilles heel: a series of doomed relationships with the many men to tread the cobbles of Coronation Street. Away from her romantic dalliances, though, Tanner was a warm hearted and maternal soul which was demonstrated most acutely in the late 1970s as she took Suzie Birchall and Gail Potter (later Platt) under her wing.

Making her final appearance in Coronation Street in 1984, Pat Phoenix left behind a brashy, honest, incredibly Northern and soulful legacy which has yet to be matched in British soaps and, given the dire state of that genre in the modern age, it's unlikely we'll ever see such a performance again. Sadly, just less than three years later, Pat Phoenix had died following a battle with lung cancer.

Several weeks after her untimely death - Phoenix was only 62 - the final chapter in her acting career aired in the form of Hidden Talents, an episode from the anthology series Unnatural Causes which, ironically, had death at the very centre of it's narrative.

Genre: DramaChannel: ITV (Central)Transmission: 15/11/1986

Nellie (Pat Phoenix) is weak and bedridden in her aging, decrepit house due to a bad heart. Living out of her front room, Nellie is looked after by her son Harold (Tom Bell) who is going deaf and prone to eccentric and emotional outbursts following a motorbike accident some years previous. Relations are tense and fractious between Nellie and Harold, a state of affairs which isn't helped by Nellie's affectionate recollections of her estranged son Stanley (Tom Georgeson) who left many years before, taking with him Nellie's savings.

Meanwhile, Mrs Hargreaves (Victoria Fairbrother) has moved in across the road, but far from being a new neighbour, this is a return to the area for a grieving mother whose daughter Madeleine (Anna Manley) was found dead in the local woods 17 years ago. Harold, a talented pianist, had given Madeleine piano lessons before her death and now appears to be haunted, yet strangely obsessed with Mrs Hargreaves reappearance.

Determined to emerge from the shadow of Nellie's constant dismissal as him as a mere nuisance in comparison to her beloved Stanley, Harold hatches a devious and unhinged plan which, crucially, will provide him with a twisted sense of redemption and justice.

Behind the Production

Hidden Talents was part of the Unnatural Causes produced by Central Television and aired on ITV in late 1986. It was an anthology series which explored death and murder with writers and stars involved in the episodes including Nigel Kneale, Beryl Bainbridge, Prunella Scales and Warren Clarke.

Lynda La Plante penned Hidden Talents and her husband Richard La Plante provided the music alongside James Simpson. Don Leaver who had previously directed The Avengers and would later collaborate with Lynda La Plante on Prime Suspect was positioned as the director on Hidden Talents.

The play, however, wasn't written specifically for television as Lynda La Plante told me:"The original script was called ‘Wait til the son shines Nellie’ and was performed as a stage play. I think it was the Network’s decision to group various plays together that had a similar theme. I was not really fully informed about the Unnatural Causes anthology"

Hidden Talents only aired once on terrestrial TV, but episodes from the Unnatural Causes anthology were later repeated on the cable channel Carlton Select.Uncovering the Unnatural

I was delving through a dusty set of VHS tapes when I stumbled across a Granada TV announcer declaring that the upcoming programme was the final performance by the legendary Pat Phoenix. Now, I'd never heard of Unnatural Causes, but, for some reason, I've always had a fascination with the final roles of television greats (see The Moon over Sohoand Grundy). Seeing those final recorded moments of such talents is bittersweet, but fascinating as it provides one last chance to watch those recognisable stars flexing their acting musclesbefore the curtain descends.

And this is why I had to watch Hidden Talents and bring it to the masses (well, however many people read this blog).

A powerful and emotion-packed exploration of the disturbed psyches that humanity can find inflicted upon itself, Hidden Talents is quite, quite remarkable in its scope and storytelling. Exploring a myriad of themes, the main characters are all put through the emotional wringer as the narrative unfolds and uncomfortable truths bubble to the surface like a particularly unclean pan put back on the boil.

Central to the narrative, as with all families, is the matriarchal figure of Nellie as La Plante explains:

"I wanted to write about the power of the mother figure and the effects she had on both of her sons, Stanley and Harold. She had harboured regrets for her own lack of talent and kept deadly secrets about her sons"

Nellie is a woman whose entire life is packed full of regret. Drinking from a crystal glass given to her by her mother in law, Nellie recalls how she had a promising future in acting, but this dream was dashed when she became pregnant. Her world view soured by this, Nellie's life appears riddled with bitterness. And yet her son Stanley appears to be the one shining light she is still desperately holding onto, all this despite his sudden disappearance and theft of her savings. It's a disturbing obsession, one which finds Nellie celebrating Stanley's well endowed form and even saying she would have been tempted had he not been her son.

Harold, of course, has clearly been subjected to a life of misfortune which has led to mental health problems, but these have been exaggerated and accelerated by Nellie's maternal disinterest. With Nellie taping his mouth shut when the police came to call to discuss Madeleine's disappearance and death, it's no surprise that Harold teeters precariously on the edge of sanity even without his motorbike accident.

Stanley, built up as a magnificent, charming individual by Nellie, is, in fact, following his reappearance, a guarded individual. Sure, there's a handsome, suave charm about him (in sharp contrast to Harold's shabby form), but it feels as though the engaging personality that he once possessed has been snuffed out long ago. Something is clearly troubling him upon his return and there's a nagging sense that perhaps he should have stayed away, removed from the past and whatever problems are entrenched in it.

The final character involved in Hidden Talents is Mrs Hargreaves who we only ever glimpse as a grey haired, mournful, almost ghostlike apparition haunting the streets and, more importantly, the mindsets of Harold and Stanley. She provides an unsettling, distressing backbone to Hidden Talents that really ratchets up the emotional impact of the narrative.

And all of these characters are played with absolute aplomb by the actors involved. Phoenix, despite her ill health, delivers a tour de force performance which draws from her tremendous wealth of talent. It's difficult to imagine a finer way for an actress to sign off and should surely be held up as a masterclass in range. Tom Bell is just as amazing in his role as Harold which calls for a level of mental imbalance that is disturbingly realistic and takes in an astonishing ability to flit between differing emotions with complete ease.

Working with these two talents, in particular, was a real pleasure for Lynda La Plante:

"Pat Phoneix was a joy to work with. She was very keen to play a role that showed her acting talents and was completely different from her famous character in Coronation Street. It was a such a fantastic experience to watch her interact with the wonderful Tom Bell, and was a wonderful demonstration of their respective talents"

Tom Georgeson has a difficult role to play, having to combine a sense of deception with an eventual realisation that he's clearly at the mercy of Harold's plan for revenge. And, ultimately, he quite literally breaks Nellie's heart. There's a brooding, cagey nature running through Stanley's veins as he arrives within the play, but Georgeson slowly dismantles this into a dramatic, emotional meltdown as Hidden Talents concludes. Victoria Fairbrother may be used sparingly, but the chilling impact that her haunted hollow eyes brings to Hidden Talents is compelling, so, when she finds a brief moment of joy at the play's conclusion, it's devastatingly effective.

Lynda La Plante's script, of course, fuels all of the actors' brilliance and it's a script which is ingeniously plotted and constructed to hold all of its themes of regret, loyalty and family up to the light with a disturbingly grim clarity. Slowly letting the script breathe with long pauses between snatches of dialogue, La Plante teases out the individual plot strands without ever letting too much away until the dramatic reveals. It's a relatively early script from La Plante, but hints at the indelible impact she would make on British television.

Bringing the script to life is Don Leaver's marvellous direction which, although it may appear simple, actually reflects the uncomfortable, almost nightmarish feel of La Plante's script. The set is dark and dilapidated which perfectly encapsulates the fortunes and mindsets of the central characters. Nellie's house feels as though, much like her, it's on its last legs and any sense of hope departed its aging walls long ago.

La Plante has fond memories of working with Leaver as she recollects:

"He was a very encouraging and dedicated professional. He believed it was important to direct the script as written and not to, as in so many instances, attempt to rewrite the script or add his own interpretation. He always listened and gave great encouragement to us all. I will be eternally grateful to have had the privilege and experience of working alongside him"

This feeling of uneasiness is given further strength by Richard La Plante's recurring piano theme which echoes throughout the episode to underline the sense of regret on offer.

Hidden Talent?

A fantastic slice of dark and disturbing television which explores familial themes that many people would rather brush to the side, Hidden Talents is a testament to the talent involved with the play. Pat Phoenix couldn't have asked for a finer send off and, as it aired, it must have reminded the world of what an inimitable talent it had just lost.

Adults need all manner of material distractions to briefly escape from reality, but young children don’t have access to credit cards and, as a result, have to find joy in other places. Thankfully, children are blessed with the most wondrous creativity. And it doesn’t cost a penny.

With a fertile imagination at their disposal, children can begin to explore the world around them all from the comfort of their bedroom. And with a few household props they can create practically any environment they like; if they’ve got a dressing up box and like to sing then it’s even better!

Now, someone once said that “Talent borrows. Genius steals”, so it’s reasonable that children – little geniuses that they are – need a little bit of inspiration to cultivate their imaginative endeavours and, acting as the perfect creative springboard, they can find this in Let’s Pretend.

Genre: Children'sChannel: ITV (Central)Transmission: 1982 - 89

Let’s Pretend starts in a playroom, a wonderful playroom full of toys and instruments. And housed within this bastion of childhood delights are three ‘pretenders’ sat at a table. Talk soon turns to an object such as bubble mixture or a tablecloth and helps to kick-start the episode’s theme. After a bit of creative re-imagining of these objects – e.g. using a broom as a crutch – the pretenders decide that they’re going to put on a play, but first they gather round a piano and bash out a song to really cement the episode’s theme.

Two of the pretenders then take a short stroll across the playroom – the ‘musician’ pretender remains at the piano – and into the performance space, a sparse area populated only by soft, colourful lighting and a few props, but don’t worry as a bewitching tale is on its way. The plays take on plots which look at thirsty magicians conjuring up giant bubbles to secure some orange juice, doctors encountering incredibly accident prone patients and we’re even treated to two posh twits stranded on a desert island in need of a paddle.

And, with the exception of the few props on offer, these plays rely on the pretenders’ ability to pretend and improvise with each other and their surroundings. The plays are completed by revisiting the original song from the playroom and brief highlights from the play for the viewers to focus on.

Behind the Pretence

Let’s Pretend was part of the lunchtime schedule on ITV between 1982 – 89 with 207 episodes being produced by Central Television over an eight series run. Unfortunately, the entire first series is officially missing, but at least one episode – ‘The Garden Bench’ – is believed to be held in an arts archive. Legendary children’s show Pipkins had previously occupied the Let’s Pretend slot, but due to a change in ITV’s landscape, something new was required as writer Gail Renard recalls:

“Sadly Pipkins ended when ATV lost its franchise – which we never thought for a moment would happen. Central TV was the new ITV franchise holder and wanted to own its own pre-school series and start afresh. Pipkins' producer, Michael Jeans, asked Pipkins' writers Susan Pleat, Denis Bond and me to write the new series, Let's Pretend”

The team’s aim was for Let’s Pretend to stimulate the fertile imagination of the young, lunchtime audience as Renard explains:

“Children love pretending and it's important that they're encouraged to use their imaginations. They can find fun and fantasy in everyday objects they see around them. A canister Hoover with a long hose can look like an elephant if you stick ears on it. Kids also love stories and music so we wove them all into Let's Pretend. There were also educational elements too”

The initial concept of Let’s Pretend may have originated in amongst the neurons and synapses of Michael Jeans’ mind, but Renard remembers the entire creative team getting involved with the development of the show:

“Michael Jeans created the main format but Susan, Denis and I were always very involved with the production. We'd have storylining days together when we'd put together all of our ideas, develop them and see which ones we wanted to turn into episodes. It was fun and there were no egos. We were always generous with each other. If someone really wanted to do a particular storyline, we were happy to say it's yours.We also attended the studio recordings. Writers really need to, especially on a long running series. You need to see the actors' strengths so that you can play to them in future, as well as what might not be working so well. You also suddenly get new ideas when immersed in it all”

One notable element of Let’s Pretend was that – despite some regular pretenders such as John Telfer, Kerry Shale and Martin Smith – there was no definitive lineup in place as Michael Jeans was reticent to rely on any one performer. As a result, dozens of actors passed through the doors of Let’s Pretend and Philip Bird, who appeared in several episodes, remembers his time on the show fondly:“I had presented some episodes of Merry-go-Round, a BBC programme for children, and had worked for ATV (which became Central) on Sapphire & Steel and the final Callan. Maybe one of those helped get me seen. Derek Barnes was the casting director on Let’s Pretend. I guess he called my agent and invited me to meet Michael Jeans. I was asked to write a song and come in and play it on the piano. The brief for the song may well have been for it to be about an elephant who can or can’t dance. Anyway, I brought a pair of wellington boots and played the song on the piano, with occasional clumpy pirouettes in the gaps in the music. I don’t remember any song of mine being rejected by him, and the rest of the cast were always encouraging and supportive. We worked as a team, throwing in ideas whenever they occurred to us. Time was fairly tight so the work was concentrated. John Telfer is a great, talented man. Andrea Gibb is now also a writer. Hardly surprising, given her inventiveness”

Sarah Lermit – who appeared in two episodes following her graduation from drama school – also remembers her involvement with Let’s Pretend as being a creative and challenging experience:“The initial brief required me to be able to sing and dance and play various parts within the episode; I had to come up with some creative ideas with the other actor and the musician and improvise so that we could then establish a story and firm up a script. As I said, it was a creative process, so there was a lot of work and pressure in the rehearsal studios to come up with a good story and to tell it in an amusing and entertaining way.On set, when filming, you ran from beginning to end with no cuts if I remember right and it was quite complicated to do. All the costume changes for the different characters you were playing – and getting the props in the right place at the right time – were all done in real time, so it was pretty full on and nerve wracking for a novice actor!”

John Telfer, one of the longest serving pretenders, recalls an equally enjoyable introduction to the series:

“I was in very first series and I was sent up by my agent for this television interview with Michael Jeans – a lovely man, completely off the wall, like a bumbling professor – and Chris Hazell the musical director who occasionally appeared as the musical presenter. And it was a really nice interview, I remember that Michael said “Draw me a silly pink elephant” so I did a quick scribble. The next day, though, I had a think about it and decided I could draw a better picture, so I sketched a dancing elephant and sent it to Michael. And I got the job”

The actors involved in the series were also given the opportunity to help shape the stories into their finished form as Telfer explains:

“Michael set a very open process of rehearsals. Some of the scripts were very tight, but some were of variable quality, so we’d throw them around a bit more to get the best out of them. We had three lots of rehearsals (in Camden) before recording at the end of the week (originally at Elstree and later Birmingham). You had to decide on the characters very quickly and this wasn’t always easy as, for example, one episode I was playing a fried egg and a boiled egg – Bobby the Boiled Egg and Frankie the Fried Egg. Frankie turned out to be a real slippery, sexy character!”

Despite the show’s long lifespan, the format changed very little with only the opening credits changing. Originally, a conveyor belt would transport the episode’s props (a la The Generation Game) towards the crunching jaws of a shark-like creature. After the first series, Michael Jeans decided this was a bit too ferocious for pre-schoolers, so the Let’s Pretend caterpillar was introduced. Early series had this puppet caterpillar dancing across the screen before being revealed to be operated by one of the pretenders. Later series would have a more generic opening where the caterpillar, in a succession of costumes, would wriggle around an illustration of the Let’s Pretend house

Relying on Creativity

Ah, Let’s Pretend! Now there’s a children’s TV show which had a significant impact on my way of viewing the world when I was knee high to a grasshopper, well, I was probably just under one metre, but let’s not get too pedantic, okay? Yes, so, Let’s Pretend, what was its effect upon my tiny brain? Well, inspired by the antics of the pretenders, I decided, one afternoon, to play Let’s Pretend. And, strapping on my older brother’s rucksack, I pretended the stairs in my hallway were a mountain and set about scaling them.

There’s no way I would have even contemplated such an exploration of my imagination without Let’s Pretend. With its influence ingrained upon my temporal lobe, it’s no surprise that this vivid memory of the show has refused to vacate the older recesses of my memory. My initial introduction to Let’s Pretend was 30 years ago and due to a lack of repeats I hadn’t seen the show for nearly as long. Could Let’s Pretend still pack a punch and inspire my sense of wonder all these years on?

Despite the long lifespan of Let’s Pretend – and falling comfortably within the era of home recordings – very little footage is freely available, so all I could find were a few clips which failed to tell me the whole story. Eventually, I managed to secure a private viewing from a kind friend and I then found that the BFI held two episodes, so I set off to digest the lot.

And, as those gentle, dreamy piano tones kicked in, I was transported on a crescendo of melody back to an era where all I had to worry about was where I would set up my base camp on the stairs. Matters had got off to a good start, but what would lie within Let’s Pretend?

Now, the first thing to address is the Let’s Pretend caterpillar puppet that appears in the opening titles as it’s one of the strongest memories for many viewers. And, it’s fair to say, their memories of this little red and yellow larva are enshrined in nightmare inducing territory. However, I’m not entirely sure why as he comes across as a curious and playful fellow who’s keen to embrace the pretending ethos of the show by dressing up. Okay, I guess the strange, synth based noises he makes are a little disturbing, but it’s nothing to hide behind the sofa about.

With this ‘horror’ quashed, it’s time to move onto the core concept of Let’s Pretend. And, like all the very best children’s TV, it’s a concept which grasps simplicity close to its heart. There’s no need to complicate matters with various frills and distractions, instead, the power of creativity is entwined into the show’s heartbeat.

What’s clever – and most important for Let’s Pretend – is the show’s ability to show young viewers that you don’t need elaborate sets and props to perform and tell stories. Sure, it would be lovely to provide every child with a huge wardrobe and an on hand set designer, but that’s not feasible.
Dispensing with the need for a budget, when the pretenders transform the blank canvas of their performance space into any location that their play demands, it demonstrates to the young viewers the huge potential of their imagination and what it can achieve.

The plays themselves have plenty to impart to the young viewers and consist of life lessons, humour, singing and silliness, so it’s the perfect formula for engaging children. It never falls into the trap of coming across too overbearing and the plays are all helped, of course, by the fantastic pretenders.

The enthusiasm with which the pretenders perform is matched only by their acting talents, so this helps bring the plays to life and gives them an exuberant feel. There’s a fabulous section in a series two episode where John Telfer, Steven Mann and Martin Smith all sing ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’ in a round style and it’s so infused with actorial charm it’s difficult not to admire their brio.
And it’s no surprise to hear that Telfer has nothing but fond memories about the recording of the series:

“We all loved Michael, he had a wonderful grandfatherly presence and was endlessly good humoured which made for a wonderful working atmosphere. You had your favourite people you worked with, I had lovely Tessa Hatts and Aidan Hamilton. In fact there was one clip of myself and Tessa playing an octopus, Tessa sang testicles instead of tentacles and we fell about in hysterics. It ended up on one of those TV Blunders shows, it’s been shown three times, so we’ve been paid for it three more times!”

The final aspect of Let’s Pretend which makes it a special show is the huge number of pretenders involved in the series. By constantly serving up so many new faces, Let’s Pretend is able to remain fresh and not rely on any one performer being the life-force of the series. It’s a move which affords Let’s Pretend yet more originality and when you consider the quality surrounding it, you’d be hard pressed to find any reason to begrudge the show its eight series span.

Pretender to the Throne?

Let’s Pretend is a marvellous dose of lunchtime children’s TV which manages to cram a level of quality into the production which appears to defy the laws of physics. This is no surprise as the whole point of your creativity is that it can stick two fingers up to the petty restrictions of physics.

Imagination is crucial to Let’s Pretend’s success as it provides a firm footing for the young viewers to get involved. It’s delivered with an admirable ease, has a marvellous set of performers and a highly experienced creative team to thank for achieving this.

And whilst my ‘mountain climbing’ experience didn’t lead to me becoming an actor (or a mountain climber), it was one of the many influences which showed me how something could be created from nothing, hence this blog. It’s an amazing feat to transcend the TV schedules and become inspirational, but one that ensures Let’s Pretend will never be forgotten.

***This article is an excerpt from my book The Curiosities of British Children's TV which is now available on Amazon

Even the most experienced of us find the simplest aspects of life a strange affair, so, combined with the number of us humans rushing around from place to place, navigating our way through this tumultuous landscape could easily appear impossible to someone looking in from the outside.

Just take the number of shops down your local high street, every single one of them has a purpose and it’s a function we’ve learned over time e.g. you know to buy your eggs from one shop and your electric drill from another shop. However, we’re certainly not born with this knowledge and, with our minds as blank canvasses, we have to gradually piece together how the fabric of the world is woven together, otherwise we’ll try and drill holes with eggs.

For an alien visitor, matters are more complex. There’s no prior experience to draw upon, so the habits, cultures and emotions of Earth’s inhabitants must result in an exponential sense of bewilderment – just imagine trying to explain the phenomena whereby a sock always goes missing in the wash.

In fact, a popular exercise set by school teachers is for their pupils to describe an activity in extreme detail for an alien who has descended from the skies. Whilst this is restricted purely to the imagination, occasionally an alien does come down to Earth and their curiosity is more than eager to Get Up and Go!

Genre: Children'sChannel: ITV (Yorkshire)Transmission: 1982 - 85

Leaving his home planet of the moon and descending down through the Earth’s atmosphere, Mooncat (operated and voiced by David Claridge) has arrived on Earth to find out more about its inhabitants. Being a newcomer to the planet and its curious ways, Mooncat can’t exactly live on his own, so he sets up home with Beryl (Beryl Reid) and Stephen (Stephen Boxer) who help to guide and entertain him with stories and music.

Mooncat has also brought along some of his moon technology, namely the Moon Machine which allows him to peer through either a circle, square or triangle window to monitor those who dwell and toil on Earth. Oh, and he can teleport too.

Looking through the colourful windows of the Moon Machine, Mooncat finds himself examining the life of a window cleaner, investigating where the milkman gets his milk from (to ensure that Mooncat can enjoy his beloved Cornflakes), watching a father and daughter take a trip to the library to borrow some books and even delving into horticultural matters by checking out time lapsed footage of mushrooms and plants growing. Mooncat doesn’t want to limit himself to being a mere observer, though, so he’s soon cleaning windows with Beryl or trying to grow plants by planting dolly mixtures.

Helping to back up these dissections of life on Earth, Beryl and Stephen read stories to Mooncat which centre on the adventures of the little girl Billie and her animal friends Woodley the dog, Monkey, Mrs Pinkerton-Trunks the elephant and Mr Milford Haven the lion.

Reinforcing the episodes’ themes, these short stories see Billie and the animals panicking about the arrival of a man with a ladder (or ‘a lamb with a madder’ as Monkey mispronounces) who’s actually just a window cleaner and an even more simpler setup where Billie and the gang grow some plants (one of which is named Dorothy Perkins).

Eventually, Stephen moves out of the shared house and goes to work at a local playgroup, but he still manages to find time to visit Beryl and Mooncat every week. Life with Beryl can’t go on forever and, fulfilling one of his lifelong dreams, Stephen opens a second-hand shop along with Mooncat in Mooncat & Co.

Helped by a never ending stream of customers such as Pat Coombes, Wilf Lunn and Patsy Rowlands, Mooncat continues to learn about the ways of the world by looking into telling the truth, the pain of missing friends and trips to the opticians. The final series of Mooncat & Co finds Stephen’s brother Berni (Berni Clifton) taking over the shop whilst Stephen is away buying stock.

Get Up and Start Filming

Get Up and Go! ran for 56 episodes over three series between 1981 – 1983 whilst Mooncat & Co managed two series and notched up 32 episodes between 1984 – 85. Both productions were written by Rick Vanes with Shirley Isherwood and Sally Wells penning the illustrated stories in Get Up and Go! and Mooncat & Co respectively. Produced by Yorkshire Television, the two shows aired in the lunchtime slot on ITV and repeats followed shortly after each series’ initial run.

Rick Vanes had previously worked on scripts for Yorkshire Television and he remembers this association leading to the creation of Get Up and Go!:

“Lesley Rogers / Lesley Smith (she used both names during the course of the series) was asked to take over as producer on a long-running series called Stepping Stones, and wanted to put her own stamp on it. Lesley had given me my first break as a writer, allowing me to write a test script for an educational series for deaf children that she was planning.She liked the script and I went on to write two series of the show, Insight, and so when she was given Stepping Stones, she asked me to write it and come up with some ideas. She wanted it to be entertaining, but full of good educational content for pre-school children, and fancied having a puppet in it.I came up with a cat from Outer Space, who wanted to find out about life on earth - thereby teaching the viewers at the same time - and named him Mooncat. It was a variation on the name that the early Beatles briefly gave themselves: Johnny & the Moondogs.My other big idea was that instead of having a young presenter (most pre-school series at the time seemed to be fronted by bouncy young things, often wearing dungarees) we should have a grandma figure. I said my ideal would be Beryl Reid… and everybody laughed. Fat chance!After my original suggestion of casting Beryl, Lesley Rogers approached her agent. Lesley was utterly charming and persuasive, and managed to sweet-talk Beryl into considering doing it. Lesley, a researcher and I went to have lunch with Beryl at her cottage by the Thames, and by the end of the afternoon she had agreed to do it. I think the clincher was that Beryl was dotty about cats - the cottage was full of them”

Starring opposite Beryl Reid, of course, was Stephen Boxer who remembers securing his place on Get Up and Go! whilst playing a role far removed from anything Mooncat ever encountered:

“Get Up and Go! was due to be filmed in Leeds at YTV. I was playing the tetraplegic patient in ‘Whose Life is it Anyway?’ at Leeds Playhouse. Whether this qualified me for a job as presenter of a children’s programme I don’t know, but I think our first producer, Lesley Rogers, came to see it, we met and that was it. I was chuffed to get the job, I have much to thank Lesley for”

Integral to the development of Mooncat was the man behind the puppet, David Claridge, who would later go on to create Roland Rat. In fact, it was the rapid and burgeoning fame brought on by Roland Rat which would mean that David Claridge was unable to carry over to Mooncat & Co; in his place, puppeteer Christopher Leith stepped in to operate and voice Mooncat.

Going back to the early stages of production, Vanes was highly impressed with David Claridge’s talent:“We spent a whole day in London auditioning puppeteers, without finding anyone who really impressed us. Last on our list was David Claridge, who was appearing on stage in a Mickey Dolenz production, operating a dog puppet, which he controlled with rods while wearing a blackout suit (and remaining in full view of the audience). Because of his theatre matinee commitments, he couldn’t make the auditions, so we had arranged to see him in his flat late in the day.We nearly didn’t make it, because Lesley was dispirited and exhausted and tempted to take an earlier train back to Leeds - but I felt we ought to see him, and she agreed. That was a great decision! David gave a brilliant audition, talking to us and operating the dog puppet at the same time. At one stage it even started humping my leg while we were talking about the character of Mooncat - and that clinched it”

By the final series of Mooncat & Co, the cast and crew had changed considerably compared to those who had worked on the first series of Get Up and Go! as Vanes explains:

“Tragically, Lesley Rogers/Smith died of cancer at a very young age while Get Up and Go! was still running, and an experienced director/producer - Len Lurcuck - took over. The first cast change was Beryl leaving to do Smiley's People for the BBC - a major drama, so who could blame her? Between us, Len Lurcuck and I felt she was a hard act to follow, and it wouldn’t really be right to cast an actress to replace her. So Len and I came up with the idea of Stephen acquiring a shop and getting Mooncat to help him - Mooncat & Co. This would allow us to introduce a rotating cast of characters visiting the shop, in place of Beryl. I can't remember who chose the actors and actresses who featured as visitors and friends - the task was probably just handed to the Casting Dept. And then Stephen Boxer and David Claridge left to do other things. So we brought in another puppeteer and Berni Clifton in place of Stephen”

As well as the cast and title changes, there were a number of other slight differences which affected the look and feel of the Mooncat universe as time went on. The original opening credits for Get Up and Go! featured children rampaging round at birthday parties, market stalls and libraries, but this was later replaced by the more familiar animated opening of Mooncat zooming down to Earth in a spacesuit. The first series also found John Sunderland illustrating Shirley Isherwood’s stories, but from the second series onwards, Maureen Roffey lent her artistic savvy to the proceedings.

Sending a Man to the Moon(cat)

I was far too young to catch any of Get Up and Go! when it originally aired (I wasn’t even born until shortly after the second series) and if I did manage to sit in front of Mooncat & Co then these memories are lost to that pesky biological phenomena known as infantile amnesia.

However, the more I heard about these two shows, the more I wanted to see them. After all, Rick Vanes has amassed a long list of writing credits and the fact that this includes The Riddlers is reason enough to tune in. And, wait, it also features TV legend Beryl Reid? And an up and coming David Claridge? No longer was it a case of wanting to see them, I had to see them!

Having never received a commercial release, and the last repeat airing over 30 years ago, tracking down footage of the two series was not simple. Thankfully, the BFI were able to come to my assistance and provided a selection of episodes from across the entire series for me to watch down at their viewing rooms.

Excited by this prospect, I donned my genuine mid 80s Casio watch (I always do this when revisiting the decade’s TV) and headed down to London where the streets are truly paved with archive TV – well, a small side street just off Tottenham Court Road at the very least.

Get Up and Go! immediately gets the young viewers on side by making use of a simple, familial setting which is immediately identifiable. Beryl is a dotty Grandmother type character, but one who is shot through with a thespian air and the wisdom this bestows on her underlines her eccentricity with a certain authority. At a slightly lower position on the age spectrum is Stephen who is like a cool, older brother who can not only play guitar, but also has an immensely likeable boy next door charm.

It’s through Beryl and Stephen, of course, that the framework of experience and learning is set down for the star of the show, Mooncat. A cute, astro-cat (he still retains part of his spacesuit as a collar) who is a curious shade of turquoise, Mooncat is clearly meant to reflect the child watching and demonstrates a thirst for knowledge about the world which perfectly reflects the outlook of the young audience.

Prone to shouting out “Hooray!” Mooncat is an excitable feline and has a naïve outlook on the ways of Earth, hence his complete bafflement at concepts such as libraries and housework (to be fair, housework still confounds my natural impulses).

Operated by the enigmatic David Claridge, the puppetry behind Mooncat is crucial not just in affording the character a full range of idiosyncratic movements and expressions, but also in allowing the character to do more in the series. Rather than restricting Mooncat’s position to specially built stands, David Claridge focused heavily on the show’s production to get the best out of Mooncat as detailed by Vanes:

“David Claridge's drive to push the boundaries of puppeteering was highly important for the series – for example, teaching us all that the puppeteer didn't necessarily have to hide behind something; he could be in full view of everyone in the studio, but unseen by the viewer because of the framing of the shot, using camera cut-off. That gave us so much more freedom in incorporating Mooncat into the action. I subsequently put that knowledge to good use in The Riddlers, where we did a lot of outside filming and I was able to script all sorts of fun stunts”

Together, the fusion of age groups and personalities provided by Beryl, Stephen and Mooncat forge a convivial atmosphere that, like all the best lineups, is built upon fantastic chemistry. Boxer remembers the time spent with his Get Up and Go! co-stars fondly:“Beryl was a comic genius, and going out for supper she could regale us with anecdotes for hours. She had a wicked and at times coruscating wit. Twice married and divorced, if someone annoyed her on sound or elex she’d say ‘I’ve seen off two husbands. I can see you off mate.’

She was also aware of her status, and insisted on there being a ‘keylight’ for her to hone in on in the studio. All I saw were banks of general lighting, but I was happy to concur. Saying that, there was one take when I came on and stood by her with a ‘Good morning Beryl’, to which she replied tartly ‘Morning Stephen’ whilst digging me sharply in the ribs with her elbow thus removing me from her self-styled spot.David Claridge and I became good friends and shared a house whilst shooting in Leeds. He had the most extraordinary creative imagination ranging from puppetry to pop music (he produced Monsoon’s ‘Ever So Lonely’ amongst others) to setting up a club (Skin Two in central London) and I remember him running the idea for Roland Rat past me (‘There’s this rat lives in the sewers under King’s Cross’), complete with drawings.He could translate his imagination into form too and designed and, I think, made the original Mooncat puppet. He was an obsessive collector of Japanese robots and Transformer toys so my kids used to love visiting him”

And these hearty relationships are given a further welcome bedfellow in the guise of the Get Up and Go! format. The central element of the series is clearly education, but it’s one that celebrates a world which, despite being humdrum to the weary eyes of adults, is a never ending sense of awe and wonder to the young audience’s eyes.

Take libraries, for example, which adults may view as studious, academic places to avoid, but for children – hamstrung by limited funds – it’s a magnificent portal to the worlds of fact and fiction where, get this, you can just take the books away.

The guts of these episode themes are nicely dealt with by the filmed inserts, but this alone would be a meagre offering for anyone watching. Thankfully, Get Up and Go! eschews doing the bare minimum and makes sure that a whole package of fun is served up. That’s why we get to see Mooncat tackling these topics with a childlike glee as he writes a rhyming book with Beryl and Stephen, cleans dirty windows and does his absolute utmost to secure a pint of milk following the non-appearance of the milkman.

Solidifying these themes further are the wonderful stories provided by Shirley Isherwood. Whimsical and filled with eccentric characters, these tales embrace simplicity to their very core and contain simple plots such as Mrs Pinkerton-Trunk’s lifelong desire to have a rose garden all of her own.

Embellished with Stephen’s piano flourishes, these stories are pure nuggets of children’s fiction and somehow manage to pack a whole universe’s worth of adventure into just a few minutes. They tie in seamlessly with the rest of the program and Vanes remembers a great working relationship:

“Shirley was a factory machinist at the time, but she was trying to make it as a writer for children. Lesley had seen some of her stories and loved them, and championed her work. So she asked Shirley to write stories for the show. How it worked was that Lesley, the researchers and I developed a list of themes for each show (Sharing, Push and Pull, Taking Turns, etc.), I would write the scripts while Shirley was writing her stories, and then I would marry the two together. Shirley was lovely, and she and I became great friends”

Ensuring that there’s nowhere for the young viewers’ attention to run to, Get Up and Go! pulls one final trick out of its back pocket with a collection of songs that use rhyme and melody to add another layer of learning and, of course, the all-important fun factor. Boxer remembers the songwriting process as enjoyable and still harbours aspirations of pop stardom:

“I wrote about 80 songs over three years to Rick Vanes very smart and witty lyrics. They always suggested a melody to me so, though there was some pressure in terms of time, they were a joy to compose. David and I were constantly badgering the YTV Enterprise Dept. to issue a (then) cassette of the songs but they’re still collecting dust in a box in my cellar so I’m open to offers. When I’m feeling Ill / I Wish I Could Whistle as Well as a Bird / I Love Decorating - everyone a sure-fire hit”

Times change and Get Up and Go! becomes Mooncat & Co with the previously mentioned cast changes. And it’s still a splendid show. The loss of Beryl Reid and David Claridge is immense, of course, but their replacements take over faultlessly.

Pat Coombes is the guest presenter in the very first episode and provides a tantalisingly glimpse at what could have been the perfect long term Beryl Reid replacement, but, like many of the guest presenters, it remained a one off appearance. Meanwhile, the noticeable change in voice is a little jarring at first, but Christopher Leith brings Mooncat to life to complete a mostly seamless transition.

The format of Mooncat & Co is very much the same as Get Up and Go! and the set itself appears to be the same one, but slightly redressed to allow for the shop front and Mooncat’s bedroom to become the focal points of the action. Mooncat also introduces Robert the Robot in the first episode ‘Shop’, a toy robot who chips in intermittently with observations.

There’s a further change in the second series as Stephen Boxer departs and Berni Clifton comes in as his replacement, but Berni is a marvellous addition and there’s a fine chemistry between himself and Mooncat that helps retain the series’ soul. The first Berni Clifton episode ‘Missing You’ looks at Mooncat’s angst over Stephen’s absence and is surprisingly poignant for a pre-schooler show, but Mooncat soon perks up as he heads to the local train station to visit a photo booth and take a photo to send to Stephen.

Other episodes find Mooncat designing a map for Berni to navigate his way to the post office, Wilf Lunn visits to buy a new hat which he proceeds to pull table legs out of before putting the hat back on and levitating (no, really!) and the final episode sees Mooncat getting a pet rabbit, Ron.

This series proved to be the Mooncat’s final hurrah with Rick Vanes feeling that the series had run its course and Mooncat’s exploration of our curious little planet came to an end.

Good Kitty?

Get Up and Go! still holds endless memories for a whole generation of children born in the latter part of the 1970s, but more generalised looks at the genre seem to forget it and concentrate, instead, on much longer running shows of the era such as You and Me and Rainbow.

However, there’s a reason that Mooncat managed to maintain a near constant presence on ITV for four years and that’s down to the wealth of talent involved. Every aspect is an incredible exploration of what children’s TV can achieve in terms of content, acting, production and the cumulative magic that this endows the series with.

There’s so much to celebrate about the series – particularly in the shadow of all those cast changes – but most importantly, it’s the size of the smile it puts on your face. And it’s a worthy reminder as to why children’s TV remains in our hearts and minds all these years on.

***This article is an excerpt from my book The Curiosities of British Children's TV which is now available on Amazon